The Storm
by Jeeny
Summary: A storm has been ravaging a house for a few weeks, and the only person to tame it has been dead for a good while... or at least the creator of the storm has been made to believe so. Yes, it's going to be SSHP eventually.
1. The Storm and How It All Started

A/N: For starters, just to make sure, I'm not getting any profit from doing this, it's only for my own, and hopefully for a few other's, pleasure. This will contain male/male pairing, so please, if it makes you uneasy, find another story to read.

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A magnificent storm had been raviging a little village not far from London. The Ministry had been able to evacuate most of the villagers, for the eye of the storm had been concentrated on one particular house. All the buildings that were at least on a ten metre range from the house had been mostly unharmed - to be fair, only the yard and the hedge had been torn off and ripped away by the hurricane that kept surrounding the house.

No one knew what had caused said hurricane, and no one knew if there were any people inside the house when it came into existense. What was sure was that it must have been caused by an immensely powerful spell. Two weeks since it's appearance, and none of the experts who had come from all around the world had been able to get close enough to explore it more than that. The ministry had been very occupied trying to make up a cover story for the muggles about low pressure and high humidity on the area, while trying to get a grip of the truth. Which was pointless, of course, for it's creator was skilled enough to have made it almost impossible for anyone on the planet to make anything out of it, let alone calm it down. And the only person, who would have been able to do it, had been deceased for a good while. Or at least that was what the creator had been made to believe.

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To understand present events, we have to start seven years ago. As all the magic stories, this one too begins in Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The great hall was packed full with tense first year students, eager teenagers, translucent ghosts and amusedly smiling teatchers. Only one face was grim: Severus Snape had been half aghast, half curious for the past few months, with the weight of this day on his shoulders. He had been counting the years for this, and now that it had finally come, he didn't know what to think.

With a frown he eyed the tremblinf first years. Right there, fourth from the left, he could see him. From behind he looked exactly like Severus could remember James looked on his first year. Unruly hair, slim figure. Severus grimaced: how could he look at this kid, how could he teatch him, when he reminded him so vividly of his arrogant and selfish father? He gritted in disdain and whatched the boy walk to the hat. A minute later, he was sitting in the Gryffindor table, just like his father years before him. Severus glowered him, picking on all the resemblance with this boy and his father, when suddenly the boy lifted his eyes and looked straight at Severus.

A strange feeling bolted in his stomach and he had to turn his gaze: those green, emerald eyes that were staring at him behind the round spectacles, were definitely not his father's. The likeness to his mother, the depth, the compassion, it was all in there: Severus realized it had felt as if it was Lily who was staring at him through the growd. This startled him so much that only when the dessert cake disappeared from his plate did he realised he had been staring at it the whole time without toutching it once. He listened to the school song and quickly fled after it. The classes started in the morning, and he had a few preparations to make - secondly, he didn't feel like seeing this boy, who made him feel such mixed feelings, any more than he had to.


	2. The Stone

The year went on slowly, and Severus had found a way for him to stand the pressure: With all his might, he ignored the eyes, the Lily in the boy, and consentrated in the James. With each week that passed by, it became easier for him. He was great in occlumency: this made it easy for him to trick his mind to slowly see the boy as the reincarnated form of his arch enemy.

While he supported the hate for him, however, he constantly kept an eye on him. For a while now, he had felt a small ticklish feeling in his left arm. It wasn't strong, and it might have been nothing, but he had mentioned it to the headmaster. It had surely concerned Dumbledore, though he didn't let it show on the outside. He had told Snape that it probably was nothing; but that he should probably keep his eyes open, because even though Hogwarts might be the safest place in the world, it still wasn't completely curseproof.

Once the first quidditch match was due, he started feeling cautious. He thought it was obvious that there was an intruder in the school, someone who knew about the stone, someone who might even be a threat to the boy. As a player, floating high with just a broom for his aid, Harry would be an easy targed. He was quite sure that the person wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything in the middle of a quidditch match however, so he didn't put too much thought into it.

A desicion he regretted once the game had started and he looked around: he immediatelly perceived that it would be impossible to discover the source of a foul spell from the mass. He started murmuring protective spells at once, hoping his instincts were wrong: but as Harry's broom started to swing, sling and shake, he knew it wasn't a strange play the boy was playing, as the slytherins around him were guessing while pointing and sneering at him. He put all his might and ability with the spells, to protect the boy, and at that point the covers he had built for himself disappeared: the boy was Lily's son, all that was left of the only person he had ever loved and who had loved him back, and he could not let anything happen to him, not now, not ever.

Suddenly the attacks stopped, and Harry was able to climb back to his broom. Severus didn't dare to stop the spells though, for he knew they would start again as soon as he would quit. Suddenly he felt something heating up his back, painfully. He howled and was forced to break the eyecontact as he turned and tried to find the source of the pain - but there was nothing there. He quickly returned to the game, but was relieved to find that nothing bad happened during the rest of the match.

Now he could be sure there was someone trying to harm Harry though, which tangled with his mind even worse. After the game he couldn't recover his walls against the boy fully anymore; the eyes started haunting him. The emerald eyes that had once belonged to his best friend, the only girl he had ever felt anything for, the girl that had been like the sister he never had, the girl that had been killed by somebody who now tried to kill her son.

It definitely wasn't a fatherly feeling he formed for this boy, for he definitely couldn't forget who his father was. He started feeling like he was responsible for his safety, as if he were his guardian. He despised it greatly how much the boy likened his father otherwise: the hateful looks he gave him, the way he talked back at him, made fun of him with his friends. During those times it was easy for Severus to confront him: all he saw was an arrogant, selfish little kid. But sometimes when Harry didn't notice Severus was observing him, he was completely different. Severus saw him grinning widely with his friends, being downbeat after an unsuccesful quidditch practise, and studying with a focused frown on his face in the library.

He knew that this boy clearly was different from his peers, he could see it. There was a depth in him that the other's didn't have, most likely caused by the fact that he had lost his parent's long before he could remember, raised with muggle relatives who, as far as Severus knew, hadn't always been as loving towards him as they were towards their own son. Nonetheless, Severus started to respect this child on a different level. And once he heard what had happened down the shutter, he felt the blood leave his face and he hurriend to the hospital wing.

As he entered the room, he saw the boy lying on a white bed, looking ever-so-peaceful. He could have been dead for all he knew, but he had heard what had happened and could tell by the small risings of his chest that the boy was just heavily asleep. He didn't dare to move any closer to the bed, but he couldn't leave the view either. For a while he just stood there, let the memories from long ago fly through his head.

_He was back at the lake almost twenty years ago. He was lying against a tree with Lily next to him. They had been reading for their OWLs, but Lily had got tired of it and closed her eyes. Severus had examined her face: even though he knew he didn't love her the way some people thought he did, he felt a strong affection towards this red-haired, pale-faced girl who was resting next to him, who was so completely different from all the people he knew. If he could choose whom he fell for, he would definitely have chosen Lily; for a long while he had thought that they would eventually end up together. But as years passed, it became clear to him, that even though he cared for her as strongly as he did, he did not lust after her. Slowly he had become to realise that it wasn't only Lily - he didn't lust after any of the girls at Hogwarts. Untill his seventh year, he had never felt a spark towards anyone - and then the new Defence Against Dark Arts -teatcher arrived_.

The door to the hospital wing closed quietly behind him, and he startled and turned his head away from the bed. Dumbledore had entered the room, and was now eyeing the bed, with a small twinkle in his eyes. Severus could tell that the professor had been standing behind him for a while before entering, and felt a bit flustered. Dumbledore took a few steps and paused next to the other professor. For a while, he stood there next to Severus, surveying the sleeping boy.

"The resemblence with his father is extreme", the headmaster then said, without turning his eyes from the scene. Severus plainly stood there, staring at the boy's rising chest.

"But the eyes... They are his mothers. He likens Lily very much" Severus finally mumbled. He didn't often enjoy his conversations with the headmaster, because they always made him feel vulnerable. He felt as if Dumbledore knew more about him than he himself did. His last statement had risen a contented smile to the headmasters lips, though he hadn't averted his gaze from the boy. Finally Severus cleared his throat and turned to the door.

"I have some papers to mark, professor. I'll see you tomorrow." Dumbledore lifted his eyes from the bed and turned them to Severus'.

"Good night, Severus" he said, with a covert smile on his face.

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Please, be lovely, and review if you have anything at all to say. It would make me feel better to know if this is going anywhere at all! 


	3. The Chamber

The paths of my story and the original story are about to part, but it will start inconspicuously, so no major differense should yet occur in this chapter.

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After Harry's second encounter with Voldemort, after the summer vacation had started and he had returned to his house, Severus started to meditate. He had been treating the boy miserably the whole year, he knew that, and he didn't have any intention to change it. He knew that the staff knew about his and James' grudge: they also thought that he was revenging it to the boy. He was glad with this belief - he didn't want to broadcast it to the world that he had got a soft spot in the form of a dead woman. He had put a lot of effort in becoming what everyone thought him to be - a heartless ex-death eater who hated nearly everyone and everything.

But he knew there were two persons alive he couldn't lie to: one being the all-knowing headmaster of the castle he worked in, and the other being himself. So, as he knew he couldn't just sit around the house whole summers without any information about the boy's condition, and as he knew he couldn't go sneeking around a muggle house for ever so often without being noticed, he used his house elf, Wocker, to regularly check on the boy, to find out how he was doing, and to find out a little about the circumstances he had to live in.

The news the little creature brought him were hideous: the muggles treated him like dirt, ignored his birthday, had him locked up in his room with bars in his windows... She also brought some curious bits of information: during an evening that a spell had been used in his house, she had felt the presens of another house elf inside the house. Severus couldn't imagine what a house-elf had done in the house, or what the spell had been used for, but it certainly made him cautious. Once he heard that Harry had been taken to the Burrow though, he calmed down considerably. To know that he was with wizards, even though with as peculiar folk as the Weasleys, he knew he'd be safe.

The school started, and he began his role as the-man-who-hated-the-boy-who-lived. He used every chance he got to torture the boy. It became like a hobby to him; He enjoyed the hatred he could see the boy had for him; To see those green eyes burning with such a passion, it made him feel satisfied. He knew he had made an indelible impression to the boy, even though negative.

After the dueling club insident however, he became a little anxious again. He had had no idea Harry could speak parseltongue, and by the looks of it, neither did his friends. It was a widely known fact that the Dark Lord had been able to speak this language, and this thought gave him the chills. The events of the night when Lily was killed had been hounting him, as well as all the other advanced sorcerers: How could the killing course bounce back from a little baby? Even though Severus knew that the boy was well able as a wizard, he also knew that he wasn't nearly immensely talented enough that he'd been able to owerpower Lord Voldemort with his skills as an infant.

There was an obvious connection between the two, and even though Severus wasn't stupid enough to phrase the words out loud, he had started to fear that the Dark Lord had somehow transferred his soul to this boy that night. But every time he could secretly observe the boy, when he was doing regular stuff with his friends, that thought was surpassed by the feeling his eyes embodied. Severus knew that within those eyes lived something the Dark Lord had never known, or would have been able to.

As Ginny Weasley had been kidnapped and the teatchers had agreed to send the kids home, he was quite surprised the next day to yet again hear how Harry had owercome the problem. The casualty that led to the disability of professor Lochart didn't bother him the slightest, but the other events startled him. This twelve year old boy, yet to enter his teens, had now prevented the return of Voldemort twise, and defeated him thrice.

As he watched the boy leave the castle to return to his muggle relatives, chatting with his friends, Severus suddenly realised how strong feelings he had formed for this boy. He felt compulsion for him, yes: he felt obligated to make sure that the offspring of Lily's could live well. But beside that, he had began to form a new image of this boy, not based on his history or parentage: during these two years, he had been able to make out the intelligent, able and surprisingly strong person who was growing inside of this kid, slowly making his way towards the surface. Severus noticed, to his surprise, that he was quite eagerly awaiting for the next time he'd be seeing this young gryffindor.

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A/N: I have to appologise for the boringness of these first chapters: I feel like I need to write them to get to the real story, so these are very short and stupid. I'm really sorry, I hope you'll stick around till it gets really started (and I really hope I won't lose interest either before that happens, I'd really like to see where this is going:-D) 


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